I’ve got friends that won’t let me choose a film because no matter the effort it’s bound to be disturbing on some level. There’s a brevity in the social media realm that was brought indirectly to my attention this weekend when a friend who knew “just the facts” of butchering mean bunnies observed that perhaps one should be uneasy because I was seemingly unaffected by the experience. This could be the ebb and flow of my communication, the perception of time constraints, of stepping into anything deeper than the obvious. And there’s that character limit shifting the focus back to social media.
So yes, I participated in the butchering of two mean bunnies, “mean” being the determining factor in the selection of who became dinner. Mean defined as pet at your own risk, chances are blood (and not the rabbits) will be drawn. Intellectually knowing this somewhat helps rationalize the process. I was after all a vegetarian for twenty plus years. Not a strict one, there was fish included in my diet and I also had the indulged in the occasional slice of prosciutto because there was and is nothing better than a slice of melon or fig wrapped in the substance. It was more of a taste versus moral stance on my part.
Participated in that I’m an observer, a witness. My camera functions as a politically correct prop, the way a cigarette used to do at a party. There was not queasiness, just slight free floating, a bit out of body anxiety steadied with yes, the camera. This works for me in large crowds too. I somehow felt it important to see it through start to finish. A sliver of comfort stepped in when the rabbits were half skinned as then they resembled something I was familiar with the cliche of tastes like chicken. Steaks, chicken and fish, we all are used to seeing in the grocery store. There’s no shock value there it’s like overdosing on an excess of action adventure films. We become immune to the violence.
Did I enjoy the barbeque rabbit hours later? Not really, there was a certain unease but appreciation for how it got there none the less.
I’m attached (not very Buddhist of me) to the morning ritual, meditation, pilgrimage, mitzvah and salutation of greeting these two with some fresh greens, a bit of hay and a rabbit feed mix that includes banana chips. I might eat the stuff in an emergency. It was purchased based on it’s visual appeal, in other words I thought it looked tasty.
Henry’s little brother who’s all of three is really into the rabbits and chickens, for about five minutes. As he’s recently been introduced to parochial pre-school per his parents I’ve done a slight bit of editing as tempting as it is not to. He knows the Baby Jesus as the Baby J. I had a moment where I envisioned him sharing that he’s seen Jesus over the weekend at his brother’s house. Then again, this could be an excellent source of income, the charging admission part.
Surf Camp for Henry and three of his friends has come to a crashing halt. It’s not due to shark sightings or a glassy ocean but the looming responsibilities (my theory) of their coach. He’s a nice guy, thirty six with a girlfriend who’s pregnant. In lieu of wetsuits and boards these guys have been helping out at Garden Girl Farm here and there.
The view of the highway and Chevron refinery from the deck of Garden Girl Farm
This past week Cassie’s ducks from Ideal Hatchery arrived and they were far from. While there appear to be happy customers on their website this was not Garden Girl Farm’s experience. She had ordered a straight run (males and females) of Peking ducks. Out of the 20 ducklings that arrived four were deformed, three have neurological issues (one runs in a circle), one is missing an eye and nine are crested. We have four of the “retards” which is Henry’s unfortunate choice of word at our house as they were being picked on by their peers.
Elsewhere around the farm Sasquatch after pulling out bunches of belly fur and making a nest with the fluff gave birth to two kits. Sadly she sat on one of them and it died. The remaining kit is thriving, here held by Freddy.
The boys while taking a post lunch break hung around with Big Gay Al hoping he would make a turkey move on them despite the warning that they would end up scratched. They finally got bored as he was not showing any interest in any of them. Which reminds me, there are also a couple of turkey chicks born about a week ago (Al’s the dad) and a new group of one day old chicks. Just another day around the farm!
A few of the one day old chicks
Misha with Big Gay Al in the background
Goose with Big Gay Al